


Good Morning, Sire.

by Lanna Michaels (lannamichaels)



Series: Allegiance [3]
Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: AU, Immortals, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-11-29
Updated: 2004-11-29
Packaged: 2017-10-12 20:19:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/128656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lannamichaels/pseuds/Lanna%20Michaels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Gerry's turn to wake Peter up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Morning, Sire.

As morning came, Gerry returned the palace. No matter where he went, it was still home. He stopped by his office to pick up Peter's daily schedule and looked it over once before tossing it down, memorized. He grabbed breakfast while he waited for the clock to strike nine. When it got close, he put down his muffin and grabbed his passkey.

Gerry nodded to the guards as he approached Peter's rooms. They were in the rear of the palace, far away from the offices where Peter ruled, and the guards had standing orders to shoot anyone who came in through the void, no matter who they were. When Gerry was in a hurry, he jumped directly to where his brother was. But there was no hurry now, and he knocked on the door before letting himself in.

The lights were still off, but the door to the bedroom was open. Gerry leaned against the wall just inside and coughed.

' _Go away, Gerry._ '

Gerry grinned. "Good morning, sire, Jonny. Is there anything I can get you?"

Peter turned his head from where it lay on Jonny's shoulder. "Turn the light on. Is everything ready?"

Gerry flicked the switch by his shoulder and walked over to the bed. "Everyone's waiting for you." That was proper. Everyone should wait on Peter. Gerry offered his brother his hand to help him out of bed.

"I hate holding court." Peter let Gerry tug him to his feet, and Jonny came around to help him into his robe. "It makes me feel like a bloody fool." He grabbed Jonny and kissed him. "Draw my bath," he ordered, and then waved Gerry over. "Where were you last night, Leech?"

"Nowhere important. Getting rid of a pet." Gerry frowned and brushed hair out of Peter's eyes. "Did you need me?"

Peter shook his head. "If I did, you know I would have called you."

That may be, but Peter wouldn't have asked unless something was wrong. "Did I miss anything I shouldn't have?"

"Not unless you care about rebuilding in India."

Ah. So Peter was bored and had wanted a diversion. Not important enough to call Gerry from halfway across the world, but not trivial enough not to remember it the next morning. "I don't. But I'll keep an eye on your schedule," he promised. "The next time you have any more reconstruction talks, I'll pick out a nice emoter and we can have some fun."

Peter smiled and kissed Gerry on the cheek. "Thank you, brother. I pretend to, of course, but I don't see how anyone could care about it."

"I do," Jonny said, coming up behind them. He bowed. "Your bath is ready, sire."

"You care about it?" Peter asked. Gerry could feel his surprise. Either Jonny was better at concealing his thoughts than Gerry thought, or the subject never came up. Peculiar. Gerry had always prided himself on how well he could read the young ones, and Jonny was still in his fifth century. It should be impossible for Jonny to hide anything from either of them.

"Yes, sire." At Peter's look, Jonny went on. "I think it's vital to the economy of that entire continent." He turned to look at Gerry, but couldn't quite meet his eye. "And the economy is important," he continued quietly, "because our relationship with humans is so tenuous in that region--"

"Enough." Peter sighed. "You can be such a bleeding heart, Jonny."

Jonny's pain was almost audible and Gerry wondered how Peter couldn't feel it.

"Yes, sire," Jonny whispered. "I understand."

Gerry inched away. He wanted no part of their argument. He didn't even want to feel it, but there was no way to avoid that. He busied himself with organizing Peter's desk while Peter bathed, and, based on the emotions coming from that direction, had more sex. At any rate, Jonny didn't taste so bitter on Gerry's tongue anymore. Gerry nodded in approval. Peter always did know how to improve morale.

Peter came out of the bathroom first, leaving Jonny to shower and clean up, and wrapped his arm around Gerry. "What do you think?"

Gerry didn't look up. "He's going to tongue-fuck you tonight until you orgasm, then try to convince you that he doesn't care for humans as much as you think he does."

Peter chuckled. "That's not a bad idea. I'd enjoy that." Gerry knew how much Jonny hated that Gerry could read everyone that easily, and he also knew how much Peter enjoyed reveling in it. Early on, when Gerry's talent wasn't as well known, Peter would have Gerry stand at the edge of a crowd and pick out secrets to be used later on. Now, everyone guarded carefully around Gerry, but he could still read with an ease that frightened many. "You should watch."

Gerry smiled and moved a few papers around. "I'll pass."

"And keep surveying?"

"It's my job."

"Part of it."

"Part of it," Gerry agreed.

' _The rest of it is to protect me._ '

Gerry looked up. Peter couldn't have thought that Gerry wouldn't have heard that. "Peter, what's wrong?" Peter only started worrying about protection when something was about to happen. Peter had a better feel for danger than Gerry ever would, and Gerry trusted him, but nothing had happened for three decades, and Gerry had no idea what happened that would set Peter off. The world had finally quieted down from the last mopping up. It couldn't be a human problem. Gerry would know.

Peter sighed and sat down behind his desk. Gerry pushed himself up on top of it, so that he was staring his brother down. He wasn't going to let Peter brush this off. A threat to Peter was something Gerry took very seriously.

"Jonny's going to leave me."

Gerry blinked. "He can't leave you." Out of reflex, he switched to a language long dead to the world, one of the few remembered only by the eldest. And by the king and his brother. "He doesn't have that right."

Peter dismissed it all with a wave of his hand. "I can think of seven ways he could make me throw him out. And I think he's already started one of them: remind me of our differences."

"And in how many of them would he keep your protection?"

"Seven, my bloodthirsty brother." Peter reached out and traced a line down Gerry's cheek. "He knows I love him. He knows I won't let you hurt him."

"I can hurt and not _hurt_ \--"

Peter pressed his finger against Gerry's lips. "Don't say it. Don't say it, Leech, or I'll ask you to do it." ' _It's so delicate. I push and you pull. Don't tempt me to do it to one I love._ ' "I don't want to do that."

Gerry didn't like it, but he didn't have to like it to obey. "As you wish, brother. But remember, the option's open. Say the word and I'll open a chamber just for him."

' _Can breaking my heart be called betrayal?_ '

"If you say it is," Gerry whispers. "You have the power here, Peter. Don't let him take it away from you." ' _The world is yours, dear brother. Take it._ ' It may take a charge of treachery to allow Gerry to maim a prisoner, but there was many things he could do short of permanent damage. And he'd do every one of them, to protect Peter. All it would take was a single word. The last battle had decided it. The world was Peter's. The only restraint on his power was what he himself imposed.

"It's only mine because you let me have it." Peter brushed his lips against Gerry's fingers and Gerry yanked his hand back.

"Don't start with me, Peter."

Peter winced. "I'm sorry, Gerry," he murmured. "I know you hate being reminded..."

Yes. He hated to be reminded. The fights, the arguments, the debates. The pain. It had been too much, and it'd been easier to roll over. Peter was better suited, and when it had come down to the eldest sons, it had been easier to defer to Peter. And Peter wanted it. Gerry didn't. He'd only wanted the idea of it. It rarely hurt now, but the pain always returned when Peter threw salt in it. "It's in the past." Gerry said finally. "And that's where I prefer the past to stay." He didn't want to think about his oath of fealty. He didn't want to think about swearing to serve a man he knew better than he knew himself. Gerry shook his head hard and listened. "You have court, Flea. And your paramour has finished cleaning."

' _I am sorry._' Peter stood, and paused. "I want to make him my consort."

Gerry sighed. "That is the stupidest idea I've ever heard from you, and I've known you since you were five years old." There were few ways that he could repay Peter for reminding him of that past, and one of them was reminding Peter of his version of the past. When they were still young together, young and stupid and as free as princes could ever be.

"I'd think taking Mother's throne would be the stupidest."

"No, that was the most short-sighted." ' _It hurt me. You hurt me._' But it was in the past. It should stay in the past. Gerry fell into step behind Peter as he walked out into the hallway. The guards parted to let them pass. "How long will you stay in court?"

"Until I start killing people."

Gerry smiled. "Call me when you do. I'd like to watch that."

"You aren't going to be there?" Peter summoned the day's schedule into his hand and flipped through it. "What are you dong?"

"I promised the crèche leader that I'd take the children down to the stables today. I'm going to introduce them to the unbroken ones."

"And warning them to stay away from your favourite." Peter flicked the file back across the void to his secretary's desk. "How long does he have left?"

"Seven weeks." It wasn't too long. Gerry's been waiting for almost a decade for this one. Seven weeks wasn't too long. But it felt like it. Every day it hurt. And normally Gerry would take this moment to appeal to Peter for a precedent for sentence reduction, but it wasn't the time.

Peter stroked the back of Gerry's neck. "I'd do it," he said. "I swear to you, Leech, I'd do it in a heartbeat. But I can't afford it." Gerry kept his eyes trained in front of him and nodded. He knew Peter wasn't lying. Peter had waited years for his last pet and never once complained about having to obey the rules he set down. But, on second thought, that was a bad analogy. Peter had killed that pet after seventy-two hours. Left him strangled on Hugh's doorstep. That one hadn't gone well. Gerry had had to keep Hugh in the dungeon for months before they both calmed down, and no one had liked that. "If I let yours go, I have to let everyone's, and then the stable will be empty. Once this lot is in the past, I'll get rid of mandatory limits. But I can't cut everyone's. I'm sorry, baby brother."

"I understand," Gerry said. It was the way life was, and it was less than two months until he could claim his pet. He could spend the time getting his quarters ready for a permanent slave, or arranging for special privileges for his human. It would probably take that long to get everything ready. "I'm just impatient."

"If your pet had two decades left," Peter went on, not listening, having to say it, "I'd cut his limit and call it privilege, but he doesn't."

"I know." Gerry kissed Peter's hand. "And thank you, but I know how to wait." Gerry opened the door to the throne room and held it open for Peter. "Seven weeks."

"Seven weeks." Peter gave Gerry a kiss on the cheek. "Enjoy your visit."

"I fully intend to." Gerry waved to all the waiting petitioners, and disappeared.


End file.
